


What Happens In Vegas..

by JustDuckinDont



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Elvis Impersonator, F/F, M/M, Or at least it's supposed to be crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:17:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustDuckinDont/pseuds/JustDuckinDont
Summary: What happens in Vegas.. should probably stay in Vegas.OrThe Elvis impersonator AU





	What Happens In Vegas..

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coquettish_murder_muffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coquettish_murder_muffin/gifts).



> The au no one asked for.

It’s hot. Entirely too hot despite the cooling breeze that washes in from the water behind him. He knew Las Vegas was hot. He was no fool but right now it was nearly insufferable. The heat soaking through his charcoal gray suit that probably cost more than the entire venue. The way it was made to fit his form was more than worth it though. He looked good and he knew it. Even with the sweat that forms beneath his arms and down his back.

 

He felt out of place at the wedding venue despite it being one of the more upscale options. Never something that he would ever consider. From the ever obvious cheap flowers to the fold out chairs pushed up fold out tables. The tablecloth barely coming close to the thread count on his sheets at home. Across the water were the back of multiple casinos. The stench of cheap liquor and desperation wafting over on the breeze but he forces himself not to judge. It wasn’t his place to judge. He was here out of the goodness of his heart and if Margot Verger wanted her wedding here then by god he would deal.

 

The woman had suffered enough and he would not share the devil’s title tonight.

 

He half turns when he hears a familiar song carry over the water. The beginning notes to Suspicious Minds playing from an Elvis impersonator that or may not pique his interest. Damn it. He won’t look over there. Not at the embarrassing man who was lip syncing to a song that only the king could and should be singing. This city was full of people like him. Muddling the good king’s title with their weak attempts and it sickens him. Actual nausea building in the pit of his stomach before he’s thankfully distracted by the clearing of a throat behind him.

 

When he turns he finds the ever beautiful Alana Bloom standing there with her hands tucked neatly into the pockets of a pantsuit that she would hopefully not be wearing to her wedding. Dark brown, nearly black hair pinned back behind her ears as her almost too small blue eyes study him in the fading sunlight. She doesn’t speak and through the silence he wonders how this woman who seems so soft and naive could end up with a someone like Margot. Then again, he knows.

 

“Lovely venue.” He breaks the silence. Leaning back against the white, metal fence. Plastic vines wrapped around the top railing and he resists the urge to rip it off. “View isn’t all that bad either.”

 

“It was the easiest place on such short notice.” Alana replies quietly. Squinting in the sunlight but she smiles a lazy sort of smile and for half a second he finds himself jealous. Jealous that she’s found someone she could settle down with. Someone she could love unconditionally for the rest of her life. There would be no more questioning her future and whether or not she would find something real because she had it. 

 

“Only a few more hours now.” She cuts into his thoughts and he nods.

 

“Will you become a Verger or she a Bloom?”

 

“Verger-Bloom.”

 

“In true lesbian fashion.”

 

“It was her suggestion.”

 

“Already under her spell.” His half smile is the only indication that he’s joking but Alana only shrugs. Possibly already regretting her decision to invite him but she can’t tell him to leave now. Not after he helped pay for some portion of the wedding.

 

“Have you seen her yet?” Her voice barely rises over the Elvis impersonator that seems to have gotten louder since she appeared. She seems somewhat nervous and for a brief moment he feels like he should comfort her in some way.

 

“I haven’t but I am sure she is beautiful.”

 

“Isn’t she always?”

 

“You sound smitten.”

 

“Did you think I the type to the marry her for her money?”

 

“She has none. Remember?” It slips out before he has a chance to silence the thought and Alana frowns at him. The curve of her lips painted red still beautiful despite the dislike written plainly across her features. “Perhaps I have had too many glasses of wine already.”

 

“Behave, Hannibal.” The bite in her tone sounds more like Margot than anything and it’s almost adorable. Almost as if she really could do something to him if she well and truly tried.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Go back to your hotel for a couple of hours. You aren’t needed until then anyway.” She turns and leaves with a flourish of her long hair. Heels against concrete signaling more finality about the conversation than her tone.

 

* * *

  
  


The sun had set completely when he returns to the venue. Now busy with Alana’s and a few of Margot friends. All in their best for the occasion. The majority of them already on their way to drunk to partake in the ever present saying of ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ something he would more than likely not participate in. Not that the people here weren’t attractive, they were within their own right but it took more than an appearance. These people didn’t exhibit the level of depth that truly delved into his core.

 

“Good. You’re here. Sobered up any?” He turns to find Alana striding towards him in a suit that he could only describe as furnace worthy. Traditional white but the vest over the shirt black. Handkerchief red, the only spark of color among the colorless, tasteless palate she had chosen. The cheap and worthless stitching visible to the naked eye and it takes everything that he is not to comment on it.

 

“Enough to hold my tongue at most.”

 

“That’ll do.” Her blue eyes dart at something behind him but he choses to study her rather than whatever is going on. “I need to ask a small favour of you. Something turned up that was pretty unexpected and I can’t handle the entertainment that’s coming in soon. Will you do it? You just need to tell them where to set up.”

 

It would be easier to say no but she fidgets with a pin that keeps her hair in place. Teeth worrying at her full bottom lip and he would hate it if she were to ruin the one decent looking thing about her. Besides, it would get him away from the man who stares him down at the open bar behind Alana.

 

“Of course. Anything for the wives to be.” He flashes her his best smile and she returns it. Her face lighting up at just the smallest reminder of what this night was all about.

 

“Great. They’re coming in through the back door in the kitchens. You’ll know it when you see it.” She explains before taking off. Disappearing through the crowd that forms in front of the still closed chapel doors.

 

He sighs. Ignoring the man who still stares at him before walking off towards the kitchens. Grateful to himself that he already knew somewhat of the venue’s layout but this time when he steps in there is almost chaos. Voices shout and the scent of herbs cling thickly to the air. Heat coursing through the corridors as he slips through towards the back door. Avoiding being taken out by a tray and a large man who seems to have little grasp of it.

 

The air outside of the kitchen is cool and appreciated. Sounds from inside still wafting out alongside the strong smell of herbs but it’s less than before. The sound of wind in the palm trees nearly louder than the shouts but he looks down the path when someone approaches. The long moment between realization and horror stretched longer than it should have been as he recognizes what approaches.

 

The first thing he realizes is that the man is downright handsome. Dark brown curls somewhat tamed to look something similar to the man he represents. The shadow of a beard lingering on his face that Hannibal can only think to call perfect. Not too angular, round and only somewhat soft. Somehow stuck in the middle of plain but there is still a perfection to him that Hannibal can’t deny. Thin lips curved into the most charming of smiles and blue eyes lit with a certain veiled confidence that only enhances his beauty.

 

His clothes, however, are a different story. Deep red, silk blazer over a plain black dress shirt. Black slacks that seemed to fit him just right with a pair of black shoes to complete. It was all rather plain but on him it was different. As if his face more than made up for the terrible ensemble he had decided on for this gig. The guitar slung across his back rather plain too but black to match his clothes.

 

Normally, Hannibal wouldn’t give Elvis impersonator’s a second thought but this time he puts a halt on it. His breath momentarily taken away when he stops in front of him. The look on his face rather impatient and perhaps even tired but he still smiles. An ever charming smile that only begs to be paid for rather than anything else and for a moment Hannibal is almost heartbroken. Almost, but not quite. A certain determination bubbling up from the pit of his stomach and he smiles without thinking.

 

“Bloom?”

 

“Lecter, actually.”

 

“I’m looking for a Bloom, not a Lecter.”

 

“She’s busy getting ready for her wedding but I’m more than capable of-”

 

“Save it. Just show me where I need to set up.” He cuts him off and it leaves Hannibal speechless. So few manage it and so few live to see another sunrise but this man is still different. Something feels different about him but what he isn’t quite sure.

 

“You don’t appear to have much to set up.” Hannibal replies. Meeting the man’s eye with a quirk of his brow.

 

“I’m different than most.”

 

“See one impersonator, you’ve seen them all.” Hannibal turns and heads back through the door to the kitchen. Smiling to himself when he hears the nearly muted sound of shoes scuffing against the floor behind him. The impersonator following him wordlessly to the reception area that is mostly empty except for the bartender but Hannibal pauses when he spots a band already lounging on the stage.

 

“Something tells me that you, Mr Lecter, have lied to me.”

 

“Doctor Lecter, and I wasn’t aware that the entertainment had already arrived.” He turns and finds the man so obviously done. Arms crossed over his chest and his once charming smile turned down into a frown. “Seems someone is toying with me.”

 

“Oh yeah? And how is that exactly?”

 

This is what he gets for being rude. Alana was well aware of his infatuation for the good king, Elvis Presley. She knew about the collection of memorabilia that he kept in his basement. Cardboard cutouts of the greatest man he hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing. Framed first edition magazine covers and ticket stubs from concerts he’d never seen. A clipping of a newspaper that announced his death framed too. His collection was extensive and Alana knew. This was his punishment for his comments.

 

“Not important. Just wait here for the reception.”

 

“Open bar?”

 

“Yes but don’t get absolutely inebriated.”

 

He shrugs and Hannibal strides away. Already hearing the music beginning in the chapel. Just managing to make it in before Margot does and taking his place in the back. Shooting Alana a glare but his annoyance with her is quickly thrown aside when Margot steps into the chapel.

 

She had always been a beautiful woman. Slender, graceful but her figure fuller, healthier and it looks good on her. Her long, brunette hair so light that under the right light it could be mistaken for red. Her white dress clings to her figure, red sash around her waist just the right pop of color that Hannibal can’t help but to appreciate. Her chin seems to raise with pride and her thin, red lips curve into a small smile the moment she spots Alana at the altar. Green eyes lit with a peaceful sort of happiness that he so rarely found in her but he suspects that he’ll see more of it now.

 

When Margot reaches Alana something in the room seems to settle. Everything falling into place and he smiles at the two women finding a new beginning in one another.

 

* * *

  
  


“I hope your wife appreciates your humor because I do not.” Hannibal begins the moment Alana walks over to him.

 

“She loved it and still does.” Her eyes seem to hone in on her wife where she stands talking to one of her friends.

 

“Oh, this wasn’t her idea?”

 

“Surprisingly not. She knows about your dark little secret just like I do.” She leans over closer to him. “She even saw the piano.”

 

“I’m taking my key back when we get back.” Hannibal mutters before taking a drink of his wine. Forcing himself to avoid looking over at the Elvis impersonator who chats to a guest. Looking incredibly bored and it compels Hannibal to take over the conversation but he keeps his distance. “What’s his name?”

 

“The impersonator? Will, Will Graham. Surprisingly he’s actually from Virginia but moved here to follow his dream of performing. Though.. He ended up becoming an Elvis impersonator when his first dream fell through.”

 

“How do you know so much about him?”

 

“I asked.”

 

“Simple enough.”

 

“He’s single too.”

 

“Trying to become a matchmaker now?”

 

“If it puts you in a better mood, sure.”

 

“My mood is appropriate for the occasion.”

 

“You’re annoyed and this is the kind of occasion that most people would feel happy to be apart of.”

 

“Exactly, most people but not me. Not since you decided to blatantly put me in a position that I find myself most unfamiliar with.”

 

“Not used to being the brunt of the joke? Guess Margot and I aren’t the only ones starting a new life.”

 

“This has nothing to do with my life.”

 

“Could if you went and talked to him.”

 

“So you are playing matchmaker.” He purses his lips and Alana laughs lightly.

 

“Maybe after you hear him sing.” 

 

She breaks away and Hannibal looks after her. Frowning as she approaches him and talks to him quietly under the sound of the actual entertainment playing. Motioning towards the stage and he nods.

 

“Enjoy, Hannibal.” Alana grins at him when she passes by on her way back to Margot’s side.

 

Will Graham holds his guitar to his side as he strides towards the stage. The band’s lead singer looking at him in confusion before Will explains himself. Pointing towards Alana in the crowd and the other man nods in understanding.

 

“Can we clear the dancefloor for our new brides. It’s time for the couple’s first dance.” His voice carries through the speakers and he’s completely in character. Voice smooth and very nearly perfect in mimicking the good king. Gaze sharp and sweeping as people move aside for the new brides. 

 

The moment before Will opens his mouth to begin the song is the moment before Hannibal realizes that angels are real or at the very least that Will has the voice of one. Reminiscent to Elvis in almost every way but there exists his own special tone that really sets them apart. Either by subconscious effort or conscious he isn’t sure but it works. Not just for his job as an Elvis impersonator but for Hannibal. He never expected will to be a crooner but it sets his heart a flutter. A certain amount of love in his voice that truly makes this wedding one to remember and Hannibal is glad for it. The look on Alana’s face is worth the cheapness of the wedding and so much more.

 

The song ends with Will’s voice fading but the tone of the song changing into something a little more upbeat and Will follows through with it. Another loving song that the band decides on without him, either to try and force him out or something else he isn’t sure but it doesn’t work. The guests of the wedding joining the couple on the dancefloor with their respective partners. Only Hannibal keeping his seat as he studies Will in the light that shines on his curls. Locking eyes momentarily with him. Not missing the twitch of his lips that threaten to curve into a smile and for a moment Hannibal is sure that Will sings directly to him.

 

Will holds his place as the band tries once more to derail him but failing as Will is an unstoppable machine. The next song a personal favorite of his. The dark glimmer in Will’s gaze fuels the racing of his heart and Hannibal forces himself to stand. If he doesn’t leave then he’ll do something that he’ll regret for the rest of his days. He’ll play into what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas with a man he’d rather not spent just one night with but countless many. 

 

His footsteps sound muted under the sound of the band and the voice that sings into his spirit. The same voice that fades the further he gets until it disappears altogether but Hannibal pauses as he looks out over the river. The flow is calming. Light dancing across the surface from the moon and nearby casino.

 

“Not a fan of my voice? Or are you actually the devil in disguise?”

 

“Quite the opposite.” Hannibal replies without looking over his shoulder at him but Will takes up the space next to him. The scent of his cologne not one bit overpowering and it reminds him of the trees back home. It brings about a sense of home that soothes and settles the growing nerves in his belly. “You have a very lovely voice, Will.”

 

“Like I said earlier. I’m different.”

 

“I may have to agree with you.”

 

“Then why run?”

 

“Wasn’t running.” Hannibal looks over at him finally. The light in his eyes and the relaxed position he holds against the railing is enough to make him feel as though he stands in a dream. Shirt untucked from his slacks and curls attempting to free themselves from the prison of his hair gel. Winding down from the busy night and war with the band.

 

“Then what was it if you weren’t running exactly?”

 

“Why did you follow me?”

 

“You’re evading the question and it doesn’t fit the class that seems to exude from you.”

 

Hannibal quirks an eyebrow at him and Will smiles in response. “I wasn’t running.”

 

“Then?”

 

“I was getting warm in there. I would prefer not to sweat through this shirt. I’m sure it costs more than you’ve ever made as an Elvis impersonator.”

 

“I’ll ignore the jab at my current career.”

 

“Don’t. I love a little fire.”

 

Will clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “So you’re a rich man with unsatisfied sexual desires. Not unexpected.”

 

“Hardly unsatisfied but I am rich.”

 

“You’re a doctor, right?”

 

“Correct, but a psychiatrist who is not above lending a helping hand to any local law enforcement.”

 

“So.. you’re rich, intelligent, helpful and incredibly handsome? Why aren’t you married yet, dr Lecter.”

 

“I won’t settle for just anyone.”

 

“So it seems.”

 

“Your voice begs the same question.”

 

“My voice doesn’t always seal the deal.”

 

“You have a gift and it somewhat surprises me that you’re only an Elvis impersonator.”

 

“I would not be opposed to a change.”

 

Hannibal meets his gaze. Catching the hint of a desire that lingers there but he looks away almost immediately. If this happened then there would be no going back. What happened in Vegas wouldn’t stay in Vegas if he had any say in it but he wonders about Will. It’s not out of the question that there was an interest but there is still the question of how long. How long would this young man’s interest remain after a single night.

 

“And what kind of change would you be looking for exactly?”

 

“The kind that gets you back to my apartment at least for a little while.”

 

Hannibal allows the slip of a smirk. “Is this apartment of yours as distasteful as this wedding?”

 

“Well.. when you put it that way.”

 

“My hotel then.” He nearly grimaces at the almost urgent tone that coats his tongue but Will flashes him that ever charming smile. “But I must warn you.. I have very singular tastes.”

 

“Oh yeah? Care to elaborate?”

 

“Not until we get back to my hotel.”

 

* * *

  
  


“Do I really have to do the thing?”

 

Will stands somewhat perplexed in the middle of the luxurious hotel room. His slicked back to the way he’d had it before and even his face cleanly shaven. Back in his impersonator outfit but professionally cleaned as per Hannibal’s request.

 

“Yes.”

 

“But-”

 

“Do it.”

 

“Fine..” He clears his throat. Smoothing out the front of his blazer with his hands and rolling his shoulders before settling with a smoldering look. Channeling the greatest Elvis he could muster and Hannibal knew he had made the right decision.

  
“YOU’RE THE DEVIL IN DISGUISE.”


End file.
